Difference between revisions of "Home"
From Myths of Atalan Wiki
(Created page with "Home, a word that inspires memories of safe places and loving embraces, and a word many use to refer to their own dwellings. However it's rumored that once that word held anot...") |
(No difference)
|
Latest revision as of 19:21, 26 February 2021
Home, a word that inspires memories of safe places and loving embraces, and a word many use to refer to their own dwellings. However it's rumored that once that word held another meaning, as did the phrase "you can always go Home." Once, it is said, there was a great city that went by the simple name of Home. However its better known in these days by its moniker City of Portals.
What's to be said about the City of Portals? We all know the tales, the stories. Grand buildings that rose 20 stories or more, Lights that made the city bright as day at night. Running water in every abode, and streets lined in silver and gold. Shall I tell you of it's walls that rose more than a hundred feet? Or the Prophet King Gaius Ogdermane, who foretold the return of the Halmorians and their fell armies? Shall I tell you of his great Allies? Illyriel The Bronze and Terenshan the Wise, who both sought him for advice and Artifacts of Power. Or shall I tell you of the great beating heart of Home, the Eye of Asuril, a gem so large and beautiful that none compare.
Perhaps, dear reader, you'd like to hear of the Final Day?
Home was under siege, It had been for ten years, to the day. The Halmorians camped outside the city, their shelters, built out of necessity during the long campaign, sat well back from the walls, outside the range of the longest spells. For years this conflict had raged. The Halmorians fighting against a position not only secure, but freely able to bypass them at will. For of course this was the City of Portals; they could bring in food enough for their people, and the great river nearby provided more than adequate water, which was of course cleaned by the vast, enchanted chambers below the city. So Home sat, safe behind its powerful wards, protected by its warrior-citizens, guarded by one of the greatest artificers of an era. Neither winning a war, nor losing it, seemingly content in its power to resist.
Halmoria though, now they were anything but content. They had long wanted the city, desiring it almost as much as ancient High Reaches. For who wouldn't desire the power of Portals? The ability to step across a continent in a single moment, to carry supplies into and out of a besieged city? It was a prize they fought bitterly to obtain, only to find themselves rebuffed time and time again.
But that day... That. Day.
Something had changed, perhaps the Emperor ordered it, or perhaps the commanders simply gave up on the objective. The truth is lost to time. But something changed in a profound and terrible way, for the Isochrone had arrived. The most powerful of the leaders of the House of Concordant Cycles was on Eramere, and She was here to settle the argument. Once and for all.
She approached the wall. A lone woman in white, her face fair and her hair a dark cascade. She spoke, and despite her diminutive stature and the height of the wall, none had trouble hearing her.
"I come," she said. "With a proclamation. Home, the City of Portals, will yield itself up to the Halmorian Empire, or it will be struck from the map, as are all those who dare oppose us."
And there, atop the wall he stood. The Artificer, his two hands, one of flesh and blood, the other a gleaming metallic construct. There he stood, and he spoke but two words that resounded across the silent crowds both inside and outside the walls. "We." He enunciated clearly. "Dare."
"So be it," she said, her face a mask of sorrow.
A slender hand was raised to the heavens, a rising prayer left her mouth. The sky darkened as the world twisted to the woman's will, wind howled, and lightning crackled. Clouds gathered and the earth trembled.
The Prophet's hand rose in tandem, a prayer upon his own lips, even as the walls began to shine with a brilliant, untainted light. Reality buckled, the earth heaved, the heavens roared. Two wills clashed, alas, the Artificer was but one man, calling upon one Overseer. What could he do in the face of eight?
The contest lasted but moments. The walls shattered, their brilliance lost; the wind howled, and power fell upon the city, rending the earth beneath, swallowing up the magnificent buildings, destroying the powerful walls. Cutting off the portals. And making sure no one could ever go Home again.